


SIFL Moments

by elenorlaura



Category: Smallville
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-11 17:01:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2075988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenorlaura/pseuds/elenorlaura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I cut a lot out of Save It For Later, and since I'm probably not going to find a use for it, I'm posting the outtakes I really hated cutting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	SIFL Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Save it for Later, Chapter 10 started turning into a JLA summer camp for teens, and I ended up cutting a lot of stuff. This bit with Connor was one of my favorites.

“Aunt Chloe?”  
   
Conner Kent smiled at Chloe Sullivan-Queen. She was flitting around the ridiculously lavish kitchen in the penthouse that used to be her husband’s second favorite bachelor pad. 

Chloe was only halfway there, lost in a fantasy supported by pricey appliances—the kitchen was loaded with professional equipment—and cable cooking shows. She could totally be a celebrity chef, she decided. 

She was not so detached from reality that she was attempting anything more complicated than basic breakfast food. 

A shirtless Oliver Queen (in Chloe’s fantasy, he’s the shirtless sous chef hottie she will speak to sternly later about his unprofessional attire) stood at the counter nearest the sink washing fruit and cutting each piece with Ginzu precision. There was a white four-by-four taped to his chest below his rib cage and a few bruises and abrasions. 

“Do you want something to drink, sweetie?” Chloe asked while she eyed her pancakes. 

She was cooking on a stainless steel grill that she had sectioned off. Pancakes formed a double row. Bacon sizzled to the upper left, and there was an irregularly shaped mass of scrambled eggs with onions and green peppers, wafting steam.

When Conner didn't respond immediately, Oliver caught his eye and tilted his head.

Right. Women cooing endearments like 'sweetie' probably weren't talking to Oliver. 

Tess never used endearments with him, even when he was small—or so he was told. Conner didn’t actually remember being small, but he remembered Tess, and it was too out of character to contemplate. 

“Uh . . . yeah. I can get that,” he said, going to the refrigerator. His Gram’s refrigerator was stocked with a lot of food in Tupperware, ready to be heated. She was a US Senator, so she didn’t have time to cook, and paid someone who did to produce a seven-day rotation of balanced meals. 

Chloe and Oliver’s refrigerator had a more lived in feel. They had condiments and stuff that looked a little dubious on the freshness date, and lots of fancy bottled waters and juices. He chose an orange-pineapple-papaya combo for himself. 

“Uncle Ollie?” he made a face saying it.

“Hit me,” Oliver said.

Conner pulled out a pomegranate and mango combo and tossed it to Oliver who caught it without any trouble.

“I’m just going to skip the uncle part, and call you Oliver,” Conner announced.

Oliver glanced over at Chloe and caught her looking like she was going to use her spatula later when she gave him a stern talking to about appropriate attire. Caught ogling, she turned his favorite shade of mildly embarrassed and went back to pretending to pay more attention to her duties at the stovetop. 

Since Conner’s announcement didn’t appear to make her feel that her ‘Aunt Chloe’ status was under siege, he shrugged. “Whatever, man. I’m not your uncle.”

“Yeah,” Conner nodded, leaning against the counter next to the grill. “You’re not my aunt, either,” he pointed out to Chloe.

Oliver just shook his head. Chloe had been the one who decided that she should be ‘Aunt Chloe’, and since she didn’t have siblings and he didn’t have siblings, she was never going to be anyone’s Aunt Chloe except out of courtesy and love. 

She pouted. “But I like being your honorary aunt,” she protested. “I was going to take you shopping, and you were going to confide in me about your crushes, and ask me to provide you with sage and affectionate advice while giving you an ego boost.”

Conner’s eyebrows shot up. “All of that, huh?”

Oliver grinned. “She’s a multi-tasker,” he threw in. 

“I’ve got a lot of practice with Bart stored up over the years.”

Bart Allen was Conner’s secret best bud before Roy Harper arrived on the scene. Bart wasn’t clued in yet because he thought of Conner as a kid, which was plainly insulting and a little crazy, and Conner was prepared to be patient with him. He was re-thinking that because Roy was his age. He had a motorcycle, tattoos, and a job pretending to be Chloe’s bodyguard while he carried her stuff and opened doors for her. 

What would his secret best bud do? Conner cast a speculative look at his young, cute honorary aunt. She was bare footed, wearing a pair of baggy cargo shorts that hung on her hipbones leaving two inches of bare, lightly browned skin under the hem of a thin t-shirt that did nothing to hide the rack that was usually less on display when she was dressed for work.

Oh, yeah. He knew exactly what Bart would say. 

“I guess we can still do that, even if you aren’t actually my aunt,” he relented, almost missing the look that Oliver shot him. 

He considered smirking, and then he remembered that Oliver knew all about kryptonite and was willing to use it in a pinch. Playfully flirting with the guy’s wife was probably not a good idea.

He definitely knew what Roy would say. The only reason he put up with the indignity of being doted on by Chloe was that Oliver was his hero. 

Chloe had wandered over to stand in front of the sink and Oliver was hand feeding her sliced strawberries and pineapple. She hooked her foot around his ankle, scooting closer. For a moment Conner wondered if he had developed a new superpower—spontaneous invisibility? Chloe looked like she was going to skip breakfast and settle for nibbling on Oliver’s collarbones. 

“Pancakes,” Oliver reminded her, ducking his head to steal a kiss.

Conner rolled his eyes. “Yeah . . . I could set the table?” he muttered to himself. 

The kiss went on. Newlyweds.


End file.
